


The Tale of Barnabas Wayne (or a lesson in sharing)

by ironicbird



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Crack, Gen, Siblings, Written for Tumblr, kinda the initial intent was crack but im not sure how to classify what actually came out, no slash this is just brotherly bonding, this is only rated t for cussing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicbird/pseuds/ironicbird
Summary: “Did you know the manor is haunted?”Tim looked up from his book to see Dick staring at him with serious look on his face. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, however, hinting that he was holding back a smile.“Liar,” Tim replied. There’s just no way the manor was haunted. Dick had “I love messing with my younger siblings” written all over his stupid face.Dick shrugged, “Hey, who lived here for longer, you or me?”Tim set his book down on his lap and stared at Dick, “There is no way the manor is haunted.”Dick let out a gasp that sounded surprisingly fake and forced, “You mean, you’ve never heard the tale of Barnabas Wayne?”--------------------------------Wrote this for a Tumblr prompt, Dick tells Tim a cautionary tale and teaches Tim an important lesson in the process.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	The Tale of Barnabas Wayne (or a lesson in sharing)

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote for a prompt from batfampromptbot on Tumblr. The prompt was:  
> Character: Tim  
> Genre: crack  
> Trope: ghosts  
> Challenge Prompt: as red as a beet
> 
> I got an idea and I ran with it but I wrote this so quickly it isn't even funny. So if there are mistakes, sorry. Mostly wrote this for writing practice anyways but I really liked what I came up with for this prompt so I rolled with it.

“Did you know the manor is haunted?”

Tim looked up from his book to see Dick staring at him with serious look on his face. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, however, hinting that he was holding back a smile.

“Liar,” Tim replied. There’s just no way the manor was haunted. Tim definitely believed in ghosts, he had worked with a girl who was essentially a ghost before back in his Young Justice days, but what he learned from that experience was that most ghosts had better things to do than sit around old mansions all day. Plus, Dick had “I love messing with my younger siblings” written all over his stupid face.

Dick shrugged, “Hey, who lived here for longer, you or me?”

Tim set his book down on his lap and stared at Dick, “There is no way the manor is haunted.”

Dick let out a gasp that sounded surprisingly fake and forced, “You mean, you’ve never heard the tale of Barnabas Wayne?”

“Oh c’mon, you’re just making that up.”

Dick shook his head, “No, no, no, Bruce used to tell me the story of Barnabas Wayne at bedtime to keep me from wandering the manor late at night.”

“Stop messing with me,” Tim replied, “It’s insulting.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air, “Think what you want, but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

Tim rolled his eyes, “Alright fine, I’ll humor you. Tell me the story of this so called Barnabas Wayne.”

Dick smiled and took a seat in a chair across from Tim. He put his elbows on his knees and wound up to tell his tale.

“So Barnabas Wayne lived in Wayne Manor back sometime in the 1800s, I’m not exactly sure. I don’t think Bruce knew either, the date changed every time he told the story, but I’m pretty sure it was late 1800s. One night, when he was eight or nine years old, he was walking outside behind the manor when he was approached by a witch.”

“Oh come on,” Tim interrupted, “You’re completely making this up.”

“You wanted to hear the story,” Dick said, “Just let me tell the story.”

“Fine.”

Dick smiled as he continued, “Alright so, he was approached by this witch, who promised him anything that he ever wanted, as long as he did something for her first.”

“And what was that?” Tim asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“The witch wanted Barnabas to make her a sandwich and bring it to her. But not just any sandwich, a very particular sandwich. It had to have four slices of honey roasted ham, with three slices of provolone cheese. The ham and cheese needed to be sandwiched in between two slices of lettuce with one slice of tomato on top. Finally, all of the ingredients needed to be in between two slices of whole wheat bread, but the bread needed to be soaked on the inside with lots and lots of mustard.”

“Sounds a lot like your favorite sandwich,” Tim said, raising an eyebrow.

Dick replied, “Where do you think I got the recipe?”

“Is that really where you got the recipe?” Tim asked, not quite believing Dick’s statement.

Dick just grinned, “Anyways, Barnabas agreed to make the sandwich and bring it to the witch at the same spot at exactly midnight the next night. An hour before midnight on the next evening, Barnabas snuck down into the kitchen, and using only the light from a single candle, constructed the sandwich exactly to the witch’s instructions. He set the sandwich on a plate, and the plate on a platter to carry along with his candle.”

“However,” Dick continued, “This was before electricity, so all that Barnabas had to light his path was the single candle. He was descending down the stairwell when he missed a step and fell down a flight of stairs. The platter went flying, and with it, the sandwich that he had constructed. As the platter fell, the candle was put out, so he couldn’t see a thing. He blindly groped in the dark, trying to find the sandwich, but all that he found was a single lettuce leaf. Unfortunately for Barnabas, he was running out of time, so he had no choice but to take the single lettuce leaf and bring it to the place where he was to meet the witch.”

“Why did he not just go make another sandwich?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know,” Dick replied, exasperatedly, “Maybe he just didn’t have enough time, or maybe he didn’t think about it.”

“Seems kinda dumb to me,” Tim said.

“Guess he just wasn’t as smart as you,” Dick said sarcastically, “Now let me finish the story. When the witch appeared, he handed her the lettuce leaf and explained what had happened to him. But, the witch wasn’t having it. She was furious that Barnabas had failed her so she put on a curse on him until he found the missing ingredients from her sandwich. Legends say that Barnabas still roams the halls today, searching frantically for those slices of ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and the mustard soaked bread.”

Dick held out his arms with a flourish, indicating the end of his tale.

“You’re so full of crap,” Tim said.

Dick huffed out a breath, “If you don’t believe me, I can show you his portrait in the family gallery.”

Tim thought for a moment, wondering if it was worth humoring Dick any longer or if he should finally put this obvious charade to rest. However, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine,” Tim said, as he set his book down on the arm of the couch, “But, I’m only doing this to humor you.”

Dick smiled and rose from his chair. Tim followed Dick out of the room and down the hall to the Wayne family portrait gallery. Tim always hated this room, too many grim faces. It also reminded him of the portrait gallery back in Drake Manor, another room that Tim had hated. All those ancestors would just look down on him, as if he wasn’t worthy of their name. Tim hadn’t been in this particular room since his initial tour of the manor years ago.

“It’s this one, over here,” Dick said, gesturing to a painting in the far corner of the room. Tim fought the shiver that threatened to creep down his back as he walked across the room to Dick. It felt like every painting in the room was staring daggers into his back.

“See look, what did I tell you?” Dick said as he pointed to a painting of a boy, around eight or nine, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was definitely a Wayne, something about his stare reminded Tim of Bruce.

“There’s no label though,” Tim said, “This could be anyone.”

“Just look a little closer,” Dick said, backing up slightly.

Tim thought it was odd that Dick was backing away, but before he really had a chance to process it, the painting fell to the ground to reveal Jason standing behind the wall with a paper plate full of mustard. Before Tim could get his wits about him, Jason threw the mustard directly onto Tim’s face, splattering all over his hair and his clothes.

“What the _hell_?” Tim shouted angrily, as he wiped mustard from his eyes.

Dick and Jason both began laughing too hard to answer Tim’s question.

“Oh my God did you see his face when I surprised him?” Jason asked Dick in between laughs.

“It was as red as a beet,” Dick replied, also laughing.

Tim just stood glowering at the two of them until they calmed down enough for him to get a word in.

“Is this because I ate your sandwich?” he asked, when Dick and Jason stopped laughing.

“Of course this is because you ate my sandwich,” Dick replied, crossing his arms.

“And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck with you,” Jason said with a grin, “When Dickie boy approached me with this plan to mess with you, I just couldn’t say no.”

“You guys are assholes,” Tim said, wringing mustard out of his hair.

“Says the man who ate my sandwich,” Dick said, teasingly.

“If I make you a new one, will you stop assaulting me with mustard?” Tim asked.

Dick grinned, “Ah good, so you understood the moral of the story.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is this OOC? Probably but hey the prompt said crack so chock it up to that. Siblings prank each other, it just be like that sometimes. I didn’t make it all that cracky anyways, probably could have gone crazier but this is what my brain spat out. It’s just all about the practice baybee.
> 
> Anyways, if you read this far, I applaud you and appreciate you. Thanks for reading! Feel free to find me on Tumblr or Twitter, @scarletbirbs for both but I will say that I am way more active on Tumblr so if you really want to find me, head there.


End file.
